Glimpses
by Putscheschka
Summary: Glimpses from Rob Lucci's past. Where he comes from, how he got to be the way he is. Warnings: violence, rape, torture, child abuse
1. Words

**Disclaimer:** I do not own One Piece. I have no money and I don't make any with this.

**Warnings**: violence, torture, (later) rape, child abuse, death

Glimpses of Lucci's past. Where he came from, how he got to be the way he is.

**_Words_**

The blow he received send him flying across the room, hitting the wall.

The man was shouting at him, harsh words in this strange language he hadn't learned to fully comprehend yet leaving his mouth. Four-year-old Rob Lucci tried to lift his arms and protect his face when the kick hit him, but not only did it break his jaw, but one of his arms as well. He screamed.

„Never use this _filthy language_ of yours _ever_ again, you bastard."

He felt the blood dwelling in his mouth, flowing round the ringing teeth.

„You're just like that _whore_, but I won't let you get away with it. Not this time."

Maybe he should have known better than to look up to his master as he talked about the woman who gave birth to him, but still he did. He met a face, filled with rage and disgust.

The blood was running past his already cut lips, down his chin and on the floor. When the next kick came he didn't manage to scream anymore, though the pain was overwhelming as the hard boot smashed through his already broken jaw.

„And don't you _ever_ dare to give me that _damn look _again."


	2. Hope

She was older then him, maybe around five years. Her soaked hair was blonde, nearly white, and her unfocused eyes blue. Her face blushed from the cold, shoulders reddened, skin peeling itself from a sunburn once received when the weather had been hot. She was kneeling in the rain, her knees in the mud. Her fair hands on the black soil gave a sharp contrast. She was shivering. Slowly she rose her head until her eyes met his.

He stared at her, his face not betraying any emotion. His back hurt – the cannonballs that had burned themself into his skin, ripped it open had done a great job to bother him – and he thought that he should go to the hospital ward or it would get infected and he would die. He didn't know if he cared that much.

„I don't know what to do...", she whispered. „Oh, I'm too afraid to touch him, I'll kill him, kill him for sure."

It was then when he noticed the little babybird she was shielding from the rain with her body. It lay on the ground, helplessly, blood around him.

„It fell out of his nest, and it started to rain."

He stared at her helpless figure, and bowed down. The bird was still alive, turning his head from one side to the other.

He felt her heat, as he moved forward, stretching his hand out to get the animal.

She looked at him in awe. He held the bird out to her, and as she took it in her palm, she smiled gently.

„Thank you. May I know your name?"

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

When the fever got the better of her and she fell, the bird still safe in her palm, he catched her and carried her inside. On his way to the hospital wing every drop of water hitting his aching back felt like iron. He didn't care.

Maybe he had finally seen the light.


	3. Mother

Alba Sonal

The child resembled Alba Sonal in every way. The black locks, the full lips – the same damn tattoos over the eyebrows, giving them a strange shape. His arms were tattooed, too – the same tattoos he had seen among hers, showing they were of the highest caste. Cleaned up he looked even more like her. His skin might be fairer, and his eyes of a golden color instead of her light green ones, but apart from that he thought he was seeing her beautiful form in front of him as he had encountered her years ago when they were children, and he had met the so young but so beautiful new queen of the Travelling People.

She had been the last of the higher castes – everything that was left of her people were whores, thieves and other scum, not worth a glance from her. Her parents had already been eliminated and she would have been next. There had been no mercy for the Travellers – not even for nine year old girls.

His mother had told him not to talk to her, but he did. She had been bitter that time, and so he promised her to save her and her people. He shouldn't have carved for her attention – he had been the highest among people, the son of one of the world leaders, and she had been nothing but a Traveller whore – queen or not, everybody knew that these people were dirt - but he did. He had fallen in love with her right away.

He had kept the promise, talked his father into ending the prosecution and spare her life, and in return she had not only rewarded him with her attention, but thought him how to fight with the Rokushiki techniques– only known by the Traveller People back then, she had decided to give away one of her people's greatest secrets.

He had never thought he could have felt a greater feeling then his love for this woman – that was until she had betrayed him. He hated her much more now than he had ever loved her.

The child was of Alba Sonal's very blood, it was for sure. He had been looking for it for four years, and now that he had found it -

- he would make that bastard pay.


	4. Family

**Family Celebration**

Asha Banu sat on the porch and watched the other children play. She could hear the older women and girls chatter as they prepered the celebrations inside, and as the sun went lower and lower, the sound was replaced with the grave sound of prayer, spoken over food and drink. Soon the men would return from their journey. She could see them, colored sails in the water.

It was a lovely day. The leaves were shining red and yellow, painting not only the trees but the soil, too, as if they were welcoming the men in their own, special way.

Asha Banu couldn't wait for her father to return. She hadn't seen him for a year – the men always away but for one week when no woman would work and the families would celebrate.

The other children were excited, too. They would talk about the beautiful things they would get from their fathers, about the tasty food always prepared at this occasion, about the joy. Forgotten was the misery of their lives, if only for a week.

Asha Banu spottet the boy under a tree, his little arms hugging his knees, looking at the leaves beside his feet. The other children avoided Rob Lucci. He wasn't like them, and not only did they know it – they felt it. His tattoos were different from theirs – not of their caste. His skin was too light, his eyes of a strange color. And worst of all – he had no _mother_. Nobody was sure that he wasn't some sort of demon or evil spirit. There were legends that sometimes the creatures of the night would steal a child and replace it with it's own. It would fit his case. After all, Anka Zena had gone to give her stillborn child to the river and returned with the boy, claiming to have found him in the wet earth by the water. Nobody had known what to do with the child – some said to kill him, but others feared the wrath of unknown creatures. Anka Zena herself wasn't very afraid of the boy. She was said to have gone insane, the way she would throw tanturms nearly killing the child when the other day she would go into the wood near the river, the child in her arms, talking to the spirits for hours, pleading them to trade the child for hers. She had even risked her life for him once – when soldiers had come to them, two weeks after he had been found. They demanded every infant and killed him right away. Every mother that had refused to give them her child had been slaughtered with it, but Anka Zena could not have cared less as she hid the child.

And then there was Sanaz Akua. She was said to be old (something you could never tell with their people, as with age their features simply got more childlike while it was their mind that slowly decayed) and in fact Asha Banu couldn't remember a time when the woman had not been there, in the small room full of books and cards. They say she was over hundred years old and was of a very high caste – she had taught one of their queens once to read and write, and she spoke so different from the others. When she was seen outside her room – which was rarely the case – she never spoke to anyone, her head held high. She had a certain interest in Rob Lucci from the day he was brought to her for advice, had him come to her room quite often as he learned to walk.

Asha Banu was pulled out of this thoughts as the bells rung. She could see her father in the red light of the sun and joy filled her heart as she ran up to him and he pressed her against his tattooed chest. The doors were opened and they all got inside. There the women would greet their husbands, and they would eat the wonderful food prepared and there was music and dancing. Asha Banu herself watched her parents dance as she got out to catch some fresh air.

Rob Lucci was still sitting under the tree, arms around his knees, watching the house. She felt pity for him. It was already dark outside, dark and cold and even if he was a demon – he was just a little one, wasn't he? He couldn't cause much harm, anyways.

„Rob Lucci!", she shouted as she ran over to him. „Come inside, let's celebrate!" She reached her hand out to him. When he didn't take it, she grabbed his small hand and pulled the little boy along to the perch up to the door. That's when she felt his hand ripped out of hers. The blow hit him so hard, he fell down the steps and didn't move for a few seconds. Anka Zena stood there, a hard look on her face.

„That's a family celebration.", she said, her voice cold. „It's Belakane. It's only for Belakane." She turned, but glanced over her shoulder. „Demons don't have any business here."

Ashu Bana stared at the boy.

Tears were running down his face.

She asked if he was okay. He said nothing.


	5. Everything

**Everything**

Her voice was beautiful. Clear and soft, no edges, ringing through his head, his body. Her song balm, healing every wound, turning pain to joy, nothing to something. Her thin, fairy like frame against the light, with the light, God, she was light. She was his light.

Maybe God had forgiven him. Maybe He was merciful and had sent him an angel.

She was light.

She was hope.

In his world full of darkness, of nothing, His angel was here, shining.

To Rob Lucci, Odette was _everything_.


	6. Challenge

Challenge

It was a nice day for this part of the North Blue. While it was damn cold and the sky was cloudy, at least it didn't snow. The island itself was small and being the rathole that it was - full of pirates, whores and that kind of scum - he wouldn't have graced it with his presence for a second hadn't it been for a wedding taking place on a nearby island.

The king there, a weak piece of shit ruling over a small, weak country was an old friend of his father's and had invited said father and him to his daughter's wedding. Of course he wasn't very interested in attending. But his father had insisted, saying he had to socialize, that he should find some nice girl of high birth so he would finally marry, and the whole speech he'd heard over a thousand times. He knew the king's daughters, and none of them could reach his standards in the slightest. If his old man hadn't been one of the five elders and as such his boss, who ordered him to attend in his place, he had probably told him to fuck off.

He sighed in frustration. Of course his father was right. One day he would take his father's place as one of the rules of this world, and he needed a wife for his image and an hair. But no matter how beautiful, no woman he'd been introduced to was beautiful enough. They also weren't strong enough, interesting enough, not enough like her. How she had spoiled women for him. He'd never be able to love a woman, to want a woman ever again, Alba Sonal made sure of that. No woman had the same raven hair, the same full lips, bright eyes, the same broad hips or the same long legs like her. No breasts like hers, no silky skin or mild scent. No flowing movements, no fire.

When he saw a woman, he only saw what she missed, and what they all missed was being Alba Sonal.

Still, he would be attending this wedding, and he would endure it. He had taken the bastard with him, so he could train him, but now he wasn't so sure. It had been two years now, and the bastard had improved greatly. He had finally learned to speak a language that was worth being called one, and his teacher claimed he'd excelled not just in both reading and writing, but maths, too.

The techniques that had taken him five years under Alba Sonal's training seemed to be in her child's blood, as he never took longer than a month to not only understand a technique, but surpass him in its use. Without that much reason to punish the boy lately (except his existance of course), he had time to study the child, again.

And he didn't like it. There's always been a person inside him that was so evil that it had scared him, even in his early childhood. While he'd come to terms with that persona since THAT day he couldn't accept it. That he saw her raven hair and that the boy was becoming more and more like his mother. That his lips were full and soft, and his eyes big and beautiful. That whenever he looked at the boy, Alba Sonal was looking back. And that this evil inside him wanted to come out, that it wanted to grap that boy like it wanted to grap Alba Sonal, and that it wanted to rip the child apart, slowly this time, so he'd last longer than the hour it had taken to tear...

He needed to stop thinking. The bastard would stay here for the time he was at the wedding, it was about time he got some practical training, anyway. It didn't take long for the boy to come after he had sent for him. And while the small figure stood before him, he tried not to look at him.

"This island", he slowly began and turned to it's snowcovered coast. "is used for pirates from all around the North Blue as some sort of base. On the other side of the island there's a big city, full of that scum. I expect hundred noses belonging to pirates you killed when I return in a week."

He turned once more, now facing the child. He didn't realize that his hand had moved forward and when he had, it was too late. The hair was soft, like that of a young kitten. Feeling it made him angry, angry with himself, with Alba Sonal and especially angry with the boy, so damn angry that he graped a handfull of the black locks and roughly pulled the six-year-old near. "Rob Lucci", he nearly spit into the kid's ear, fighting the other him that was so close from taking over "don't..."

He pushed the boy toward's the ramp leading to the island. "Don't dare to die."

The way to his booth had never taken that long.


	7. Sword

**Sword**

Mihawk had seen many women in his life - had seen them happy, sad and angry. He had seen them in all forms and shapes imaginable - but they all had a thing in common. They were weak.

Mihawk despised weakness.

Needless to say, when she stood in front of him for the first time, he wasn't impressed. He didn't consider her couragous for walking into a district filled with pirates, into a bar well known for being the favourite place of some of the worst outlaws the Grand Line has ever seen, her head held high and her walk steady. He tought she was stupid or mad or both. It didn't change when she stopped in front of him and he noticed how beautiful she was. Light green eyes (an unusual color, he noticed), a cold gaze, full lips and an even fuller cleavage. Tattoos all over her body, heavy jewlery, revealing clothes, long legs.  
It got worse when he noticed the curve of her unclothed (but well tattooed) belly.

"You should not be here", he told her. "You can still get yourself raped and killed after it is born"

At that, she smirked. A dark, arrogant smirk. "And who should do the deed? You?"  
That sounded mocking.

"You don't seem to realize who you are talking to, woman", he hissed. She was starting to annoy him.  
But when a hand the size of her head grabbed her shoulder and he heared some drunken pick-up lines from some guys twice her size who had walked up behind her, he reached for his sword.

She was faster. The first one flew straight across the room, crashing into some old pictures hanging in the wall. A small hole between his eyes proofed his death. The second, the one that was grabbing her shoulder, lost his arm first. it was still clinging at her, even as it's owner lay, face split in two, on the floor. The third tried to run, but was dead before he hit the floor, a hole in his neck.

The room was silent as she threw the arm that had been grabbing her shoulder a second ago in front of Mihawks chair. Mihawk stared.

"Anyone else who wants to die?", her smooth voice filled the silence. No one moved.

She turned to him, as if nothing had happened. Her eyes were cold - the eyes of a killer.

"I think you should join me for a walk, Mihawk Dracule"

He challenged her that day. She accepted, despite the child in her womb. He wanted to go light on her, but she didn't even sweat. And when he tried to end it, fighting with all he had, she stomped him into the dust.

Mihawk had never been so impressed.  
He had never been so disappointed either. When Alba Sonal told him who she was and why she had sought him out - a damn government dog - he felt betrayed. Next time, he had sworn to himself - next time when they'd meet he would kill her.

He accepted a place among the Seven Samurai none the less.

He didn't know, back then, that there would never be a next time. That four months later there was nothing left of the woman he had fallen in love with but some dust - and a memory.


End file.
